Dusty Trenches A Billy Darley Oneshot
by ClassicalyWrote
Summary: Just a simple day alone for Billy Darley. He's tired of the same old stuff. He's not the type to end up in pack rat shops or anything, but when one catches his eye, he'll find himself leaving and forever saying, that trenchcoat!*Note: No OFC in this story


_DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! Billy Darley, Bones, the gang, and Joe are creations from James Wan, and if I remember on the commentary of my Death Sentence DVD, a few writers that worked on the movie with James. I only claim the teenage girl without a name that played the role as the shopkeeper for this one-shot! Nothing else is mine, so NO copyright intended!_

**_Dusty Trenches_**

**_~*~*~*~*~*~*_**

He settled his bottom deeply into the leather seat. He found the joy of a lonesome ride in his branded sweetheart as he called her. It seemed pretty damn silly to trust a car, but he trusted her to get him places, get things done in the speed that he needed to keep up with his life. The radio worked fine, no new editions fixed into the car though. He preferred to keep it all his own. What use did he have for a CD player? No, he'd just stick with that one old radio station that he listened on mornings when he could take his showers alone without the whores he let sleep in his bed. None of his gang members there to pressure him. None of his younger brother, Joe's problems to deal with.

All he needed to worry about was getting the tense muscles lining up and down his back and leading a trail to his broad shoulders- the ones that seemed to be growing in size-ones that he took pride in pumping- unclenched. If he had to work a corner or something more for the ruthless man who called himself a business man, then he needed to keep himself in shape for runs and shit didn't he? Bones wasn't fit to be father let alone a "good" business man. He'd rip off whoever he could. Mostly took pride in the ones that he called his best customers.

Billy never wanted anything to do with it. It all felt like bull shit. Life needed to have more exciting means to provide William Darley with a solid day's good mood. Times like these when the weekend was pending in one short day, the fall leaves gave the normally dull trees some color, gave the air a refreshing temperature, and the rain fell at a steady pace in almost every surrounding state all over the world, including here in Billy's hometown of Boston, Massachusetts. You could say without any doubts that fall was his favorite season. Winter too damn cold, summer too damn hot.

Fall was a mix that suited many purposes for him. The cold air fit better for nights of walks when everything felt like too much and not a whore one or beating the pulp out of someone for getting in his way, helped relieved the pressure that this man, this new aged adult went through. The rain kept everything simple and gave off no cheery moods to most as sunshine would much to Billy's annoyance. He appreciated the water and gray clouds. It also kept the beams of light from his window in the morning when needed the sleep after a night's work had his back hurting beyond anything that over the counter medication could fix. When he ran the cold air burned his lungs and reminded him that he needed to keep going. It kept him alive to an extent.

He always felt more into adulthood than he ever felt like being a teenager. Billy just turned nineteen. He was an adult by a piece of paper and a date, but really what did any of that shit solve? He'd been dealing with drug packing and delivering all of his life since his last time at playing with toy guns instead of real ones. He thought it'd be cool once Bones finally put one in his hand, the plastic was ok, but never fit his abnormally macho standards as the lean boy he was at age nine. So, he naturally became excited with the big hunk of metal. Yeah, it kicked his tall height to the ground and shook him up a bit, something he'd never admitted to anyone all of his life, but he got over it and the weapon suited him on a personal level. He slept with plenty of those "toys" around his bedside at night.

He'd remembered testing new guns for Bones. Shipping them and picking them up.

He did a lot more then he'd let on to his younger brother whom currently occupied the age of hotdogs, cigarettes, pot and his ideal of a perfect catch was the sixteen year old cheerleading captain of the crappy high school that Billy was glad to have been rid off. Joe was only fourteen. Five years younger then Billy was. Billy was born somewhere in the suburbs back in 79. Yeah, the suburbs and not the shittiest part of town that he occupied now. His mother was a high and preppy champagne sipping daddy's girl looking for a rebel way to outsmart her parents. She found something in Bones and pushed out two boys during the years. She'd left after Billy was born and came back again for a one time interest in Bones. Got herself knocked up yet again and did the same with this boy.

Billy found himself unable to turn away a family member that didn't talk to him like he was shit of the earth. Though Joe couldn't talk at that time, Billy saw it as an opportunity to have a solid brother. He'd had a friend named Bodie. No one ever really knew Bodie's name. But he and Billy were solid as brothers. So he joined in with helping Billy care for his younger sibling. They never talked about any of the past drabbles, but lived for the days ahead, or something good that could possibly come their way?

Back to the point ahead, Billy had a day to himself. The corners ran early, shipments delivered and Bones with a new prize. He'd been grateful in his subconscious thoughts but he'd never admit out loud to be in praise for a day that he thought he highly deserved. The break made him feel settled for once in his life since the day that Bones put the weight of everything that he deemed holy in his eldest son's hands.

Billy treated himself to a steak and eggs breakfast. He even decided on a coffee over his stash of Jack in his glove compartment. Well, he'd doe up on the Jack for lunch. He'd been driving down the avenue of stores downtown. Being out of Rockside felt damn good. The wiper blew the rain from the clear windows. Driving had begun to annoy him to some extent so he decided to pull over and browse shit for the hell of things. He pulled the mustang over, the tires making the rain wash from the steam filled pavement. He got out, leaving behind the simple black jacket in the car- tired of the ratty short duster.

He lit up a smoke from his Marbol reds pack for the browse. Most of the shops were full of woman, good rides he thought about pursing to kill some time. But he wasn't about to tame his balls and waltz into a store full of woman that happened to be packed full of woman shit. He'd get some other broad without dealing with the nightmare. Not even the best set of legs would get him to venture into any of these stores. Bored and pissed he threw the cigarette down and headed back in the direction of the mustang ready to start up on the Jack early.

Billy browsing store windows for anything other than the store seemed like a hilarious concept. Things started taking odd turns when Billy saw a brown overhead sign that caught his eye. The sign was a lighter green with wooden trim and the letters that read the name of the novelty shop were faded to the point that the store looked nameless. The windows were crammed with wooden antiques as he presumed. Bird cages with rust and strings of beads, other odds and ends.

The small wooden sign that set on the broken tile- that led to the door of the shop- caught his attention before he walked away from another meaningless browse. These letters were far from faded. In bold letters they read : Rifle cases, leather belts and coats, work boots and cans of paint all on sale for today's fall dime on a dollar purchase

It couldn't be a store that actually had good means of stock? This surprised Billy as he never was an avid shopper. He didn't have Heco go out and scout clothes for him though, he wore whatever he found in old trash bags left in his closet most of the time. If he needed a new shirt, he'd go to straight into a local Wal-Mart, piss off anyone who looked his way, buy a simple black shirt and jeans throw a couple packs of boxer/briefs and wife beaters on the counter, make the clerks feel like jumping from their own skin, and go. That happened to be it. The only reason he went into public shopping facilities were simply for the fact to rattle civilians and gain ego points for the day.

But this place caught his blue eyes. "What the hell?" He ran a hand over the back of his blonde hair and pulled open the glass door. A strong aroma of must and some kind of nauseating room spray hit him with force. He closed his eyes to down the sudden anger of deciding on going into the store. He'd rather be going into the bottle fogging up in his cold car.

When he opened his eyes however, everything seemed to be a different story. Everything was stacked on shelves and cases. He could spot the cherry wood finished rifle cases. Toys for kids and mirrors with lots of girly shit hung about. Most of everything looked odd and disinteresting. He decided to have a look for boots and a belt. If he had to get some shit for himself, he'd rather be in this hell hole then back in the bright lights of the blue cracked store.

Everything that lined the cases through the crowded pathways started to fascinate his eye for old stuff. The dust covered some old books and comics for kids. Shoes that matched up to old cowboy boots scattered the floors beneath two rust spotted tables. His feet creaked against the badly green carpeted floors. Maybe this place wasn't so bad?

Somewhere in the background Billy heard some kind of music playing. The sound to low for his ears to hear. That had to be a good thing. He wasn't into the banjo, hip hop shit of the nineties. He browsed through the belts and threw leather over his shoulder. The black detail in good enough shape. He also managed to pick out a pair of green rustic looking cowboy boots with brown laces. Shit didn't look too bad.

He looked at the mirrors in the back and caught site of himself. He looked tired and a bit ragged. His hair all over and he was a little wet from the rain. He smirked at wondering who'd he be pressuring in just a few minutes. Give an old shop keeper a heart attack perhaps? Scam on some woman in her forties? Scare the piss out of an utter moron?

He'd hoped for some riling to his game. As he made his way to the front he noticed a small petite girl bent over the counter sorting through some boxes. He laughed. A little teen girl? How fun this would be.

He strutted up to the counter, slamming the items down onto the glass case and making many more rattle. The girl jumped a few feet into the air. She whipped around immediately, catching her glasses in her hands. "Oh, Jesus you scared me, sir," she muttered a loud.

Billy leaned over the counter with a taunting look. The girl leaned back a bit with a pink tint covering her cheeks. Her frame looked petite. Her chest and hips rounded fairly, but none too much to show off. Her brown hair was thrown over her shoulders. She wore a simple white t-shirt and light blue jeans. Nice ass working this store, he thought. Billy analyzed her from head to toe. One of those innocent girls with Backstreet boys posters most likely plastered to their walls.

"Slow?" Billy grumbled, giving her a dark look.

She shifted uncomfortably and played with the ends of her hair. Billy finally caught wind of the music. A black CD player had some sort of jazz music playing. Billy recognized that shit anywhere. His mother popped Kenny G in on occasion when she sipped her finer wines and mingled away on her computer or cellular phone. It also happened to be the music that Heco often got shot up with or so to speak.

You could play the music in the right ways Billy guessed. Before too many memories of dull road past came back into play, Billy stood up straight and looked directly at the girl.

She spoke up after a few more moments of silence. "Did you enjoy the items in the store?"

Billy answered a question with another. "How do you keep this dive going? I can see it a place for popping pills, deals or doing the daddy crackhouse walk." He laughed.

The girl's face went from pink to pure red. She grabbed at the ends of her t-shirt and made a move for the items that he'd put up on the counter. He slammed his hand down onto hers.

"I like answers to my questions," he growled, loving the high he was getting from rattling her chains.

"Well, I asked you a question too," she stated in a small voice.

Billy grinned at her attempts. She wasn't the first town girl to give him extra lip, and she wasn't going to be the last.

"Looks like we both need answers," the girl interrupted him, tapping her fingers nervously on the glass counter top.

"So much confidence for such a ratty looking worker," Billy chuckled when she lifted her head up, her jaw clenching.

"So much balls for a street rat to waltz into an antique shop for shoes and a belt."

This turned Billy's stomach. She started to press his buttons. It was far more then rattling a girl's confidence, it was the girls mouth that did him in.

He leaned forward furthermore. "Tell me, can we test the products?" He stroked the buckle of the belt with dark eyes.

The girl leaned back and started to retreat against the wall.

"No need for that. Just ring my shit up," Billy grew tired of her.

She hesitated on coming forward, but with a warning look from him she hustled forward and lost her shaky footing, ramming into a display class. It fell and beads clattered to the floor. Some fell on top of her and some flew across the counter. When the racket of items falling about finally settled down, she opened her eyes with courage. The look on the man's face in front of her had her hand almost crying out for the phone. The man's eyes were dark, his breathing hard. Beads had covered his long shoulders and some stuck there.

"Oh damn," she cursed, feeling her heart drop to the pit of her stomach.

He yanked the beads from his body and brushed his shoulders off. He was very far from home.

Billy felt the hot blood pool through his veins and boil to the surface, angry and determined. He shoved the costume jewelry from his body, feeling embarrassment gain some control. The girl looked scared out of her wits.

Much again to his shock she was rushing around the counter and picking stuff off of him and from the floor. Her apologizes breathless and tired, much like his own voice felt after arguments with Bones. She ran towards the back and he wasted to time in following her in stride.

She was holding onto a dust pan and a broom.

"I am so sorry, sir," she said, holding onto the broom for dear life.

Billy walked slowly towards her and she moved to her left as they danced in a circle, his eyes dangerously low on her. Her own looked like they were beginning to get wet. She backed herself into a tall crate that held clothing and books in the shelf peaks. Billy placed either hand on the side of her.

"Quiet fucking days always ruined by someone not doing their job," his voice low and husky. His cigarette filled breath close to her quivering mouth.

"I said I was-"

He lifted his finger to silence her, but when he placed it back down beside her head, his fingers felt along something a lot more smoother than a wooden old crate.

She noticed him looking and quickly ducked out of his way and pulled the material into his sights.

Good distraction, he smirked again.

"Coat for your troubles?" She whimpered slightly as she talked fast over her own words, and pulled something from behind the crate. She shook the long thing off and removed the hanger.

Billy felt his eyes overtake his current anger as he scanned the piece of clothing that she held in her hands. It was a long leather trench coat. It was brown, but dusty. The leather still looked just as fresh as something made a few weeks ago. Rarely if it wasn't guns or a party drug of choice a chase after a screw up who dared to challenge him, Billy found himself fascinated with nothing. That is until now...

He looked the coat over, the smell of old leather reminding him much of his mustang. He already liked the look of the coat and the many options it had sewn into it. The inside held pockets for all of his needs. Perfect combination of shit for him. Billy Darley had truly found something that he liked in an antique shop with a teenage girl running it.

She looked relieved. Billy decided to further push her comfort zone. Her comfort quickly resided and he could already sense her fragile mind and body. He smirked and tossed the coat on a table next to himself.

"What about a rat's troubles? Or desires?" He laughed at her expression.

He once again had her backed into that same crate.

"Troubles, aren't they funny things?" He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

~*~*~*~

Billy had his other items sacked in a simply brown bag. His coat flowing over his figure. He definitely could put this fucking thing to good use. A damn brown trench coat! That's what he valued? A damn brown trench coat?

--------------

A/N: So, you like it? It's a little something that I came up with in this mornings early hours as my headache was keeping me- along with my sinus infection, up and wide awake. I went shopping in a few antique stores yesterday and a pack rats store, and was reeling from the burst of writing inspiration that it brought. I was thinking on what to write and BAM the two clicked. Billy's coat and antiques. I tried to keep him in character as I believe the guy (if he were real) would have to get his limited amount of clothing from somewhere, and we all make sure to spice him up in fics when he's wearing the infamous coat, don't we? ;) I figured why not write a fun one-shot on a way that I think he could've got it. Hoped you liked it. Let me know how I did. And thanks for reading. :) - Kris


End file.
